


the stag and their meadow

by sixth_dr_whomst



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aromantic Character(s), Asexual character(s), Gen, Multi, Nonbinary Character(s), Original Characters - Freeform, Pansexual Character(s), Time Travel, Transgender Character(s), space, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15790005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixth_dr_whomst/pseuds/sixth_dr_whomst
Summary: Once upon a time - isn't that how great stories start? Stories about growth, about change, about loosing the shackles of whatever pains have followed you since birth, since you developed a personality - those start with "once upon a time." But which time? Clem, [REDACTED], and Hartley are all roughly from the same time, but Adria? Halley? Shee, Stevie, Reese, Nys'tho - this is their story too, but there's no congruent time. Time is subjective, just like all else in this universe.This is a story. About time, about space, about figuring out what's safe and what isn't. It's a story about self-discovery, about developing personalities at the age of 25, about still learning who you are, and about setting realistic expectations - and learning to love yourself even when you fall short.This is a story about us.This is a story about everyone.This is a story about you.This is a story about me.This is not a story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is an original work, with original characters. please don't copy it.  
> i will try and update this main work every two weeks, but other parts may be posted randomly.

She wakes up in total darkness, on something cold and unforgiving. She blinks a couple times, as if to double-check that her eyes aren’t just still closed. She slowly stands, and turns around in a circle a few times.

“HELLO?”

 **[REDACTED]** frowns, crossing her arms and clenching her fists. She was alone, entirely, utterly alone, abandoned, trapped, in the darkness and shadows-

_For God’s sake, can’t you chill for half an hour?_

She takes a deep breath, repeatedly clenching and unclenching her fists. This wasn’t the time to have a panic attack. Nothing here was going to hurt her, and no one was here to mock her.

“Sister Ridley?” **[REDACTED]** whirls around, startled, to see her old bishop, standing in the doorway of his office. “Come on in.”

He has that same patronizing smile, the one that made her feel even more anxious and even worse about what she had come to confess. As **[REDACTED]** walks through the doorway, she found herself in his office, which was... impossible, to say the least, because the building had burned down a few years earlier and had been rebuilt. She knew the office looked different now. And yet, there it was, in all its pre-fire glory. The burlap and wood walls, dark wooden desk in the center, paintings of Christ on the walls, a picture of the nearest temple, those were all exactly the same as it used to be.

She takes a seat in a chair without her mind agreeing to. The bishop smiles, a sickeningly sweet yet fake display, and says, “What have you come to say?”

And without her consent, her mouth opens.

“I’ve thought about girls.” She pauses awkwardly. “S- sexually.”

Her mind is _screaming_. This had taken place nearly a year ago, and she’d sworn off ever thinking about it again, so why was she reliving it? She moves to the chair on her left, a little further away from the bishop, and found that she didn’t. If she moved, the bishop and his desk and his office and the entire world moved to the left with her.

The bishop opens his mouth finally. “Well, sister, I’m glad you’ve told me. As I’m sure you know, the Church believes that…”

The door creaks open.

That hadn’t happened.

“Oh.” comes a voice, and a man **[REDACTED]** ’s never seen in her life walks through. He’s dressed in a pastel pink button-down shirt, with a creamy white vest on top, and a pair of jeans. He had an undercut, a haircut **[REDACTED]** had once considered getting herself. His wide eyes scan the room.

“What? What’s ‘oh’?” Another someone says, stepping through the door after him. She’s wearing a dark colored crop top and dark blue cargo pants with a small and intricate flower pattern on them, her dirty blonde curly hair pulled back into a ponytail. “I never trust it when you say ‘oh’.”

“I- it’s nothing, it’s just a Mormon church office. Just another kid’s dream.”

“How do you know it’s Mormon?”

“Burlap. Plus, a temple on the wall.”

“Ah.”

“Wh- who are you?”

Both strangers snap their eyes to **[REDACTED]**. “Wait, you can see us?” The man says quickly, blinking in what must have been surprise.

“Well- I- uh- yeah!”

“No one’s seen us before.” He continues just as quickly, as if justifying his rudeness.

“Before?”

“We’ve seen another 20 dreams.” answers the woman, the second person to enter the room.

“If you can communicate with us, then you might just be the person we’re looking for.” The man sticks out his hand. “I’m Hartley, they/them pronouns. This is Clem, she/her.”

 **[REDACTED]** is at a loss. She just sticks her hand out in return and shakes theirs. “ **[REDACTED]**. Uh, she/her, I... guess... what do you mean, you’ve been looking for me?”

“Well, it’s definitely complicated, and I promise I can explain it all- well, not _all_ , but most of it after we get it sorted. For now, though, I need you to focus on what you were doing before you got here. What happened before you woke up?”

“Uh, well-” **[REDACTED]** wracks her brain. “I- I dunno. I was at work.” At that, Hartley pulls a face. “Well, it’s not my first choice either, but I have to make money, okay? I- I was…” She pauses to take a deep breath and closes her eyes. “I was closing it up. It was Saturday night, and I was the last one there. I was gonna see if I could catch up with some of my friends, maybe invite them over Sunday night and, watch a movie or something.”

“That sounds nice.” Hartley says softly, and their voice is inviting, sweet, gentle. They crouch at the side of her chair, looking up at her. “What happened next?”

“I- I was…”

Things start to get fuzzy, as if even the blackness of her eyelids is suspect, another possible fabrication.

“I started to walk home…”

* * *

 

The woman falls backwards. “WOAH!” Hartley yells, bounding forwards to catch her.

Her braided hair fizzes straight through the desk, as does her head, thankfully. The suited man, who had been droning on continually about temple visits and taking the sacrament, starts to fizz as well, his voice modulating like a computer simulation being shut down.

“I think this is bad. I’m pretty sure this is on the list of bad things you told me to watch out for, reality breaking down around us.” Clem comments, looking around.

“No, actually, this is kinda good!” They reply, looking about as enthusiastic as they ever did when things turned to Mormons. “If we found the linchpin for the simulation, and if the linchpin is no longer sending input, then the simulation will shut down. As seen here.”

They punch a fist through the entire table, and then give a pleased smile. “Did that feel good?” She asks sarcastically, eyeing the floor.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“The floor’s not gonna give out, right?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Define absolutely.”

“75% sure it won’t give out.”

They reach for her hand anyways. She grips it tight, and scooches closer to the unconscious woman, also supporting her with her body. She squeezes her eyes shut, and Hartley grips her hand even tighter.

She can hear the fizzing get louder and louder, like static on a television with the volume turned up to 100. She has the odd sensation that the floor’s going to give out, and she tenses, ready for impact.

The buzzing gets quieter.

“Okay, I think it’s over.”

She opens her eyes, and realizes Hartley’s right. The room’s faded back into the pressing darkness that filled the void between each dream. On the bright side, the ground’s still there. She resists the urge to give it a friendly pat. “Hey, check it!”

Clem bends over backwards to see where Hartley was pointing, and finds a simple wooden door. Overhead it had a lit green “exit” sign, which didn’t give out much light. “Think it’s a trap?”

“Oh, well, I hope not.” Clem whips back around to give Hartley a death glare. “If we shut down the projection, then that should be a legitimate exit. Can you take **[REDACTED]**?”

Clem nods, and Hartley clambers to their feet. With a little effort, Clem stands up as well, holding the tall blonde in her arms. “I hope you know it’s not very easy to carry someone who’s at least a foot taller than you.”

“I know.” They respond, walking quickly towards the door. “I tried to pick up my 6-foot friend in a fireman’s carry, didn’t I tell you that story?”

“Yes.” Clem hisses, readjusting **[REDACTED]** in her arms.

Hartley looks over their shoulder at her, and smiles. “Punk’s not dead.” They comment, and Clem rolls her eyes.

“You always say that.”

“It’s because you’re so punk.”

They reach the door, and Hartley opens it, teasingly holding it open for her. “M’lady.”

“God, don’t be a Nice Guy.”

Clem rolls her eyes again, and Hartley smiles back from underneath their fringe. “I need a haircut.” They add as they follow her through the doorway.

* * *

 

They sit up quickly, and gasp for breath. “Clem? Clem!”

They look around wildly, suddenly terrified. _Shit, where is she? She can’t have been taken, they would have had us both in pods, but I’m not in a pod right now, so maybe we weren’t, maybe she wasn’t, maybe-_

“CLEM!”

“Over here!”

She coughs, and Hartley stumbles out of the stretcher and over to her side. She’s on the ground, and as they kneel she rolls over onto her other side. “Eugh. I’m just sore.”

Hartley gives a small nervous laugh. “Well, that’s better than the alternative. C’mon.”

They give her a hand up, and brushes themself off. “So now what?” Clem asks.

“Well... I have no idea. We’ll make it up.”

“It probably has something to do with **[REDACTED]** , yeah?”

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” Hartley starts pacing, tapping their chin thoughtfully. “We’ve taken her out of the dream, which means that she’ll stop being the mental battery.”

Far above them, stomping footsteps echo around the large chamber. Hartley looks up, their face falling slightly.

“Which means they’ll send people to figure out what’s wrong?” Clem finishes, her eyes boring straight into the side of Hartley’s head.

“On the bright side, we can follow them to find her.” They add innocently, smiling widely at Clem.

And with that, they bolt, hi-tops clanging on the grated floor. They hear Clem groan behind them, and then start running as well. She quickly catches up to them, and even outstrips them within another few moments. They run up maybe 2 flights of stairs before Clem points out an empty dumbwaiter (or the Mendian equivalent), and they take that instead.

Hartley stays crouched on the floor, peering up over the edge of the grating. They can see the guards enclosing on **[REDACTED]** , who was locked in a frozen pod, presumably the battery holder for their ship. They need a distraction. They could make multiple ones, but those would involve precise aiming, loud noises, and little to no risk.

Hartley, of course, decides to use an idiotic idea.

“HEY! OVER HERE!”

Clem hisses at them, but the guards were suitably distracted. “Halt!” One of them yells, as if that would ever actually do anything. “You will be detained! You are out of your pod!”

“LIKE HELL I’LL HALT! GOTTA CATCH ME FIRST, YA BASTARDS!”

Clem catches onto their plan, and just as they bolted, she did too. The guards had no choice but to chase them both. The two intruders ran, ran like the goddamn wind, Clem on the left and Hartley on the right. As they approach a crossroads, Hartley says, “I’ll get **[REDACTED]** , you keep going.”

Clem nods, and goes to the right. Hartley bolts to the left, and hides. As predicted, the guards chase after Clem, and they’re able to slip away. By doubling back on their tracks, they find themself back in the large chamber with **[REDACTED]** , who’s being guarded by a single guard.

They creep closer to the guard, and then stick two fingers into his back. “Move, and I’ll shoot.”

The guard stays perfectly still.

“Good. Now, I want you to take two steps to the right.” He did so, and Hartley moves with him. “Goooooood. Now, hand me your gun…”

The guard apparently didn’t even think of shooting Hartley with his gun, which makes Hartley sigh internally with relief. “That could have been bad.” They comment to the sleeping **[REDACTED]**. “Now,” They continue, turning to look back at the guard. “Stay still.”

They reach up and slam the butt of the gun into his helmet. He passes out.

As they set to unplugging **[REDACTED]** and turning off the power, they explain, “Mendian helmets are notoriously weak and don’t do much other than provide the illusion of protection. That makes the guards much braver, and more likely to go out and do their job instead of worrying about being killed.” They cast a quick glance back at the guard. “I cracked it.”

Clem comes bolting back in. “I think I lost them. If you make me carry her again, Hart, I swear to God-“

“No, no, nono.” Hartley says quickly, holding their hands up in half-teasing surrender. “Look, floating stretcher. All good.”

“Is a floating stretcher going to work without power?”

Hartley raises an eyebrow. “I- what?”

“Taking **[REDACTED]** out, isn’t that going to make the ship lose power?”

“Oh, well, yeah. Floating stretcher also has wheels.” They procure the handle from behind their back, and smile as they show it off to Clem.

“Then why is it called a floating stretcher?”

“Only floats while it has power.” They answer, quickly sliding **[REDACTED]** out of the pod and onto the stretcher. “They use it to replace batteries. This might be the only one on the ship that has wheels. Everything else operates on the assumption that they always have power.” There was a sudden emptiness, a complete lack of noise. “That includes guards, lights, security cameras, and…” Their face falls suddenly. “And life support.”

Clem’s eyes widen, as she looks down as her feet leave the ground. “And gravity, apparently.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Hartley rummages through their bag, and pulls out two large oxygen tanks with masks. They hand one to Clem, and fit the other one over their head. Pulling out a third and fastening it to **[REDACTED]** , they realize a flaw in their plan.

“C-L-E-M?” They sign in ASL.

Their face contorts into a frown. Clem’s eyes widen. “No.” She signs back, narrowing her eyes at them.

“Can’t move **[REDACTED]** without gravity.”

“Fuck’s sake.” She mumbles audibly under her breath.

She looks around for a bit, and then spots what was likely the space equivalent of a fire extinguisher. She moves towards it slowly, and uses it to slowly propel herself back towards Hartley. She places it between her thighs and signs, “Work?”

Hartley looks thoughtful, and then nods. “Short time.”

Slowly but surely, they propel themselves using the space extinguisher, and then into a small doorway. As soon as they cross over the threshold, gravity takes hold again, and they land. Clem lands as gracefully as a 5 foot beefcake can, while Hartley had entered near the top of the doorway, and belly-flops to the floor. As she starts to pull **[REDACTED]** in behind them, Hartley bounces back onto their feet and scrabbles through the airlock towards the console in the middle of the room. They look up just as Clem closes the first, outer door, and then gives them a thumbs up. They flip a switch, and smile as the world rushes away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> needles tw, homophobia mention (very very brief).

Something beeps on her right. Something's wrong with her arms, she can’t quite lift them. Her eyes weren’t open, but she can’t quite remember how to open them anyways.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” comes a soothing voice, and warm hands are suddenly on her arms, rubbing up and down. “You should remember everything in a little bit. You’re safe now, you’re safe.”

True to their word,  **[REDACTED]** ’s eyes open a few minutes later. And she really remembers everything. “Weren’t we in the bishop’s office?”

Hartley grins down at her. “By making you remember what had happened before waking up in darkness, you broke the link. Your mind rejected whatever story it was making for why you were reliving a previous event, and that knocked the battery out of link, and you passed out. Which, as I understand it, most people do-”

She places a hand on Hartley’s arm, making them stop. “Start over? I think I missed part of that.”

“It’s okay." They pause, and take a deep breath, letting their hands drop into their lap.

"When you were walking home, you must have been abducted by the Mendians. They’re a race of aliens that use mental energies - specifically, fear and discomfort - to power their ships. Their previous battery was running out, so they went on the hunt for you. We - that’s- me and Clem - knew they were gonna do so, so we also kept an eye on their activities. When they took you, we skedaddled onto their ship to see if we could get you out before they plugged you in. We didn’t, obviously, but you put up a good fight. Mentally and physically. Anyways, it turns out that both batteries and prisoners share a dreamscape, and we kept running into prisoners. Most of the time, the people in the dreamscapes can’t see beyond their own little reality, so they didn’t see us or register our presence. So when we found you, and you actually talked to us-“

“You figured I had to be the battery.”

Hartley snaps their fingers. “Yep.”

“And that woke me up? Realizing things weren’t as seamless as they were made to be.”

“Yeppers. You didn’t wake up entirely, though. You were still in the sleep pod, which put you in the dreamscape in the first place. They were getting ready to stick you back in when we showed up.”

“Were they? I thought there were just a bunch of guards.” Clem quips, entering the room.

Hartley sticks their tongue out at her. “The guards were there to protect her from us until she could be put under again.”

“Ah.” She nods, and gives  **[REDACTED]** a look that said,  _ of course, dear _ . 

“ _ Anyways _ , we got you out and into our ship. The sleep pods they use have some weird side effects, though, so it might be best if you stay here. Just so we can make sure you’ll be okay.”

“Is there a chance I won’t?”

“No, no! No more than you do just by existing.” Clem smacks their arm. “Ow! What!”

“That’s not comforting!”

**[REDACTED]** laughs a little, and both people turn to her. “Sorry.” She says immediately, turning red.

“Hey, no, don’t apologize!” Hartley says quickly, taking her hand in theirs. “I just got thrown off. You have a cute laugh.”

She splutters a little. “Th-thanks?”

“Clem, would you mind watching  **[REDACTED]** for a second? I’m gonna call Grace and see if he’s got a sec to check up on her.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Hartley squeezes  **[REDACTED]** ’s hand again before taking off out of the room, at a pace that  **[REDACTED]** would have called a run, except they looked like it was barely a quick walk. She looks around the room, taking in the gleaming white walls and... well, white everything. White appeared to be the aesthetic of the medbay, with softish white beds and creamy white bedsheets matched with pastel white lights. It was also unsettlingly silent, as Clem procured a book from somewhere within her jacket and started reading. “Lotta white in here.” She observes awkwardly, tapping her fingers nervously.

What was that? You idiot.

“Matches your hair.” Clem says without looking up from her book.

**[REDACTED]** almost reaches a hand up to her pale blonde, almost white hair, but then remembers that there's a something, an IV tube, in one arm, and the other arm was apparently on break. The conversation had flopped spectacularly, and she could feel herself getting more and more anxious. She's in the middle of opening her mouth to make some joke about the weather when Hartley’s voice comes across a pair of loudspeakers.

“HEYA, CLEM!”

Clem hisses, and glares at the speakers. “Hartley, turn it down! The speakers are up really loud, remember?”

“Oh, right, sorry!” Their voice had returned to a normal volume. “Uh, Grace said he’s ready for us, so he’s gonna be there in like, two minutes. Maybe three, if he hasn’t had his coffee yet.”

“Okay. Send him my love.”

“Send it yourself.”

“Asshole.”

“Jerkbutt McGee.”

The speakers cut off, and Clem smiles to herself. “Dork.”

“So... who’s Grace?”

Clem looks up. “Oh, Grace is one of Hart’s old friends. I guess they’ve known each other for a long time. Grace is a medical doctor, and Hart always goes to him when they’ve got medical issues. He tells some great stories.” She shifts in her seat, leaning forward. “Apparently, one time, Hart was running around on this planet, I can’t remember which one, and they ran straight into the president. The president! Of the entire planet!”

Clem starts laughing, her eyes crinkling up. “And the president’s guards were all, ‘you asshole, go burn in hell’, but the president said they were old friends, so they got off scotch-free!”

“That’s not entirely true.” Another voice says, and  **[REDACTED]** whips her head around to see someone new, presumably Grace, standing in the hallway. “They got a few nasty bruises out of the experience.”

“Grace.” Clem says, a warm smile falling into place.

She stands up and hugs him, and he lets out a laugh, arms sliding up and down her back. “It’s good to see you again, Clementine.”

“You too, you bastard.” She pats his back, and lets go. “How’s the hus-” She stops suddenly, and casts  **[REDACTED]** a glance. “How’s James?” She corrects, looking back to Grace.

“He’s good.” Grace answers, trying to act nonchalant. “Finally got a call-back. We’re waiting for the news.”

“Oh, good for him!”

Grace smiles directly at  **[REDACTED]** . “Hello. I’m Grace, he/him pronouns.”

“ **[REDACTED]** , she/her. Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” They shake hands, and then he starts towards the other side of the room. “I’m just here to make sure that you’re okay, that there’s no other ill effects from being in a sleep pod. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Bees, but that’s it.”

“Smoker? Heart problems? History of either in the family?”

“Nope to all of the above.”

“Alcoholic?”

“Nah.”

“HIV positive, or any STI’s?”

“No.” Her cheeks heats up.

“Okay. Well, that’s a good start. I’m going to take a little blood, are you afraid of needles?”

“Not really. Unless it’s an abnormally large one.”

“That’s fair.” He grins. “I’m gonna check your blood and see if you’re low on anything specific, like oxygen or white blood cells. I’ll also be checking for any anomalies from the average blood sample. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna make sure Hart doesn’t wander in.” Clem says, and high-tails it out of the room.

Grace laughs a little, and  **[REDACTED]** looks away from her arm. “She just doesn’t want to admit that she’s afraid of needles, too.” Grace says.

“They’re both afraid of needles?”

“Yep. If you’ll pardon my French, it was absolute hell to try and draw blood the first time from them. They both took one look at the needle and bolted. Clem locked herself into a bathroom and Hartley managed to worm their way into the top shelf of a pantry and couldn’t get back out.”

**[REDACTED]** laughs incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Grace laughs too. “The entire shelf collapsed underneath them before they would come out.”

“Wow.”

“You’re a much better patient. Hold that there.”

**[REDACTED]** holds the gauze down on her arm while Grace tapes it in place. He continued to perform the typical procedures, explaining each one as he went along. Maybe 20 minutes later, someone knocks at the door, and Hartley yells, “IS IT OVER YET?”

Grace rolls his eyes, and opens the door. “Yes.”

“Oh, good.”

They and Clem walk through the door, and take a seat, Clem in an actual (but backwards) chair and Hartley on the bed next to  **[REDACTED]** ’s. “I was just telling  **[REDACTED]** about your first time getting blood drawn.”

Hartley hisses like a cat, and Clem shivers. “Eugh. Bad times.” She says, folding her arms and leaning forward onto the back of the chair.

“Well, I’m gonna take this and get it started testing.” Grace says, patting the vial of blood. “I’ll be back in about 10 minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

He walks out the door, and  **[REDACTED]** turns back to Clem. “So... is he, uh... gay?” At the looks she gets, she continues quickly, “It just- it sounded like you were going to ask him how his husband was, and then you- you- stopped.”

“We... weren’t sure if you’d be an ass about it.” Clem says, eyeing Hartley carefully. Hartley was pointedly looking at the sheets, rubbing them slowly.

“Well, uh, I’m not. I guess I’m... exmormon. Don’t- I’m- not a homophobe.”

“Good to know.” Hartley smiles a little, but doesn’t look up. “Join the club of exmo’s.”

**[REDACTED]** looks up, surprised, and Hartley flashes her a peace sign with a small smile. Before she can say anything else, Grace walks back in. “Okay, well, that’ll be ready tomorrow. Even with your _ super high-tech equipment _ .” He teases, leaning into Hartley. 

They laugh, leaning back into him. “There’s something to be said about wait times. Makes you appreciate the result more.”

“I do remember a time when you were told you couldn’t listen to music for 6 hours and you nearly rocketed off the walls.” Clem snorts, smiling.

“That’s totally different.” They say, sticking their nose in the air for a few moments before breaking into laughter again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof it is 9:40 pm and im Exhausted have this chapter gn everyone

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is an update: i added some more to the first chapter so that it lines up with my personal drafts. also, i will undoubtedly be posting more little, non-linear drabbles in a collection somewhere. thanks!


End file.
